I Am La Resistance
by AdjacentJas
Summary: Christophe is the 'Last man on Earth' when a plague has spread throughout the world. He is in Paris and is trying to find a cure, and find his friends. But The last man on earth is 'NOT' alone. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE! BASED OFF OF THE MOVIE I AM LEGEND!
1. Where Where You?

**I Am La **_**Resistance.**_

**_Rating WILL go up._**

**Sumary:** Christophe is an agent/digger whose job now is to cure the unstopable virus that has spread throughout the world. Thought to be 'the last man on earth', he is somehow immune to this virus. He sends radio messages daily in hope of finding any survivors, but all hope seems lost. He is acompanied by his canine companion and continues to fight off this plague. Though the last man on earth. He is 'not' alone. (Later MoleXGregory. Warnings: This story is not for the soft of heart, it has very upsetting sensitive materials) **Rated: T **(For: Language, horror, violence/gore, mature humor/content, upsetting/sensitive plot, (non main character)death, later ChristopheXGregory) **:D**

**A/N: ****I made up Christophe's last name because he doesn't have one.**

**This is morely based off of the _movie_ rather than the _novel_, though some element's are encouraged from the novel's _style_ of writting. Like the fact I've chosen one of the movies qualities. The plague victims aren't _vampires_, they're _zombie_ like creatures. The novel is written by _'Richard Matheson' _If anyone is interested.**

**Also the song I used in this is **_**'Smile' **_**by **_**'Nat King Cole'**_**.**

**You would get a emotional feel to this if you listen to that when it's actually played and the **_**'I Am Legend Theme' **_**throughout.**

**Not the **_**'I Am Listening' **_**one but the all round soundtrack.**

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Chapter One: Where Where You?

'My name ez Christophe De Morel. I am a survivor living en Paris, France. I am broadcasting on all AM frequences. I will be at ze center of ze Eiffle Tower everyday at mid day, when ze sun ez highest in ze sky. If you are out zer... If _anyone_ ez out zer... I can provide food, I can provide shelter, I can provide security. If zer ez anybody out zer. Anybody. Please... You are not alone...'

The earth was ancient now. Cracked, dusted, left for dead amongst what seemed to be the menopause of everything. The sky was swollen and red. The rivers ran dry, poluted by the little nourishment they salvaged. Everywhere, crowded streets full off empty whispers and coated figures that lurked beneath the shadows. Vihicles parked, or rather abandoned, in the middle of streets and pathways. Deer ran lose as so did other animals. Most likely from rotting zoo's that had finally snapped just like the few lives remaining. It was quiet apart from the constant swarm of black birds and the screech that came to be a racing sports car down the withered streets. It was well past it's speed limit, but the driver remained oblivious.

The expression he gave was forlorn. Christophe was a strong faced man complete with a thick brow and short, brown, choppy hair. He fashioned a stubbled chin and was fond of the old cigarette. Which twitched between his gritted teeth as he puffed his breathes enjoying the rich tobacco. He wore fingerless, black gloves. A dark green shirt with a buckled leather strap that hung from his left shoulder and connected back to his belt on the right side. A rope was slung around his shoulder also, along with some dark brown cargo pants and military boots, which he was quite fond of. Another thing he was fond of was digging, so he always carried around a shovel, and of course firearm. Just incase... Despite the man's intimidating and dirty appearance, he had a morbid fear of dogs. Guard dog's to be precise. But that was the pure irony of his canine companion, Lucas. He was forced to befriend the mutt, as he was the only thing left to befriend. Everything else had been _plagued._

The car slowed dramaticly, as Christophe parked the car outside an old video store. Lucas, his canine companion, hovered his head out the window and panted violently. The Frenchman stepped out of the car. He held his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, flicking off the exess tobacco. He turned to Lucas and pet him roughly on the head. "Zere. Stay, I'll be right back." He took one long, deep breathe before slamming the door to the car and stepping cautiously into the shop. Christophe took his time looking round every shelf. Examining every nook and cranny. Dusting off the DVD's as he went until he finally picked one he thought he and Lucas might enjoy. "Oui... 'Beowulf' zat shoul'd be fuckin' great." Taking a puff of his smokes, he left the shop and returned to his car. He started the engine and drove off towards his shelter. He had to get home. The light was fading and darkness was setting in...

* * *

He had arrived at the sheltered house. He had to board all the windows, lock all the doors, switch on the electric fence and turn every single light sorce on he could possibly find. The watch on his wrist ticked, a slow and painful noise for the Frenchman. One he loathed with every vein in his body. It clicked at 5:40. _'Sheet they will be 'ere in 'alf an hour.' _Christophe inwardly spoke as he jogged up stairs, turned right and hopped into the bathroom. Lucas wasn't far behind. "C'mon you stupeed dog. Time is low, get in." He pointed to the bathtub and Lucas jumped in barking a warning to the brunette. "Ze bastards won't get us. Zey never 'ave. Zey are stupeed and vile."

Lucas tilted his head, somewhat confused, but then retorted to growling at the window behind himself. Christophe sighed. He didn't come home early enough to eat, so he was on the brink of eating anything he could find. _'Even block of soap' _He thought. Christophe set down his shovel beside the bathtub and took his AK-47 in hand, loading it with the ammo he had stored in his pockets that where like black holes. It seemed he kept everything in them. From ammo, to knives, to food and his cigarettes, to dog treats, to rope and string. But he had to. Carrying a bag would be too much, just the odd shoulder or waist bag was enough.

The Frenchman locked the door with the key hidden under the shower mat. _'Smart, no?'_ He chuckled at the stupidity of it, and then went to bolting the other locks shut.

**'Beep, beep. Beep, beep.'**

"Sheet..." He stared at his watch as if it where about to explode and distroy time itself. But to him, that ticking, that noise, indicated distruction. That noise told him that They are comming. The noise rang through his ears and into his fingers. He begain to shake as he clutched the gun tighter, slid down the door and shut his eyes. _'Where's your God now...?" _He cocked the gun and lit another cigarette. He placed it between his lips and took a satisfying inhail, taking the time to count the seconds in which the crude, unmistakable noises came closer and closer. They choked and squirmed, thrashed and snapped eachothers bones, screamed in agony and distress. The best thing Cristophe could do now was turn on his iPod and think of how much easier life would be if He was still here. If He was sitting beside him helping him through all this.

Christophe lowly sang the tune, trying his best not to scare the plagued.

"Smile, zo your 'art ez aching.

Smile zo your 'art ez breaking.

When zere are clouds en ze sky, you'll get by.

If you smile through your fear and sorrow.

Smile and maybe tomorrow,

You'll see ze sun come shining through for you...

Light up your face with gladness.  
Hide every trace of sadness.  
All zo a tear may be ever so near.  
Zat's ze time you must keep on trying.  
Smile, what's ze use of crying?  
You'll find zat life ez still worthwhile.  
If you just smile.

Zat's ze time you must keep on trying.  
Smile, what's ze use of crying?  
You'll find zat life is still worthwhile  
If you... just, smile..."

Most would have snapped by now. But Christphe was on a drive. He knew that he'd find his best friend again and that he couldn't possibly be one of _Them_. He lent his head against the wall and curled up tight with his legs against his chest. Trying to have nice dreams for once. During the Frenchman's concert, Lucas had scampered over and was now resting his fluffy head on Ze Mole's boot. He whimpered and fell asleep, as did the digger. _'Where ez God, and where are you?"_

**A/N: Well... what do you think chaps? I really should be writting _'Tomato Love In Paris' _right now but, I have MAJOR writters block on it like, seriosuly. And I reaaallly wanted to start this up because I'm OBSESSED with _MoleXGregory_ and _CREEK._**

**Probably won't update for a while, oh well... I am off school from Wednesday til Monday soo... Maybe. JUST MAYBE!**

**Tatty byes, as you are. Dance a dickless jig~**


	2. Life Without

**PLEASE** READ INFORMATION **BELOW**!

THIS IS ONLY** HALF** THE SECOND CHAPTER, IM POSTING THIS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP ON IT! NOT THAT ANYONE CARES

**A/N: Finally, An Update! But it's only half finished! *pulls hair* GAH!**

**This chapter took so long because I was in hospital and on holiday and the fact that it is going to be much longer than the first. No songs used yet I believe but there's most likely going to be some sort of song.**

**A tad more Chregory in this chapter! ***wink win**k***

(Kinda Spoiler?) **I was original going to do a deleted scene of them doing the dirt in the bushes and grass while on their last mission together but... You never know... It might be a deleted scene that I MIGHT post at the end. ***super wink*** I have no beta so... Yeah. ***Sweat drop*

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_**I Am La Resistance.**_

**Chapter Two: **Life Without** (**part one**)**

The morning finally came. Somehow, even in the utter chaos, Christophe managed to end up in his bedroom fast asleep. Though he was soon disturbed by the beeping of his clock, indicating it was time to start the day and search for any means of surviving this plague. He sighed deeply before scratching at his head and running a hand through his hair. He clicked off his watch and sat up, slowly but surely. He noticed Lucas laying beside the bed on the floor, fast asleep no doubt. Christophe glanced to the shutters on the windows. He never, ever, opened those windows. They where the only windows he kept shut at all times, in fear that _'they'_ would see him. That they would somehow find and distroy him piece by piece. But he moved on and pulled his boots over his cargos, lacing them up tightly before stretching out into a standing position.

Christophe slinked down the stairs and into the kitchen, to where he flicked on the TV which already had a pre-recorded news report on it. It helped him stay sane but also brought him false hope. Groaning, he reached into the cuboard then to the fridge where he grabbed some cerial and milk. He then sat down at the white table on the creeky, red stool to eat. _'Same old morning' _He thought. _'Same old sheet.'_

* * *

After starting the day right, Christophe always went into the city to check for any sign of life and to check for supplies. Acompanied with Lucas, he raided abandoned houses with ease. As he did apartments and flats. Today he brought a satchel. Why you ask? He was going to get all the ammunition he could and take down some of those bastards lurking in the shadows.

He had only found about two rounds of AK-47 ammo and five Colt bullets. That was no where near enough to do the frenchman. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, puffing on the newly lit cigarette, backing up to the wall of the cluttered, decaying building they stood in. While Christophe sighed and smoked his worries away Lucas was sniffing about for anything at all edible. The odds didn't seem too good as the house has been raided before by them, but only very briefly. Suddenly Lucas barked and started pawing a crate behind the sofa. Christophe stepped over some rubbish before he knelt down beside the crate and dusted it off. It read 'Supplies' which cracked a grin on the frenchman's face, and strangly, it seemed Lucas was smiling two. He slung the satchel over his shoulder and reached into it, pulling out a crowbar. Lucas tilted his head and whined in confusion but soon jumped back, growling when Christophe started attacking the crate and ripping off its lid. Ze Mole frown once the dust cleared. He grabbed the little that was in the crate; A small bottle of paracetamol, a tin of tomato soup, a box of plasters and one round of Colt bullets. He did _need_ those and he was running out of medical equipment, so he was happy with the find.

Christophe stood, placing everything back into the satchel but the bullets; he reloaded the Colt with those and turned around heading back for the car. He was just about to leave when he heard a scratching noise. He stopped trying to pin-point it. But he couldn't. Lucas barked and Christophe softly kicked him to be quite. To which he obeyed. The noise continued and this time Christophe raised the AK-47 to the pin-pointed location. The ceiling. Lucas ran for the stair's of the flats and raced up to the second floor. Christophe cursed and followed, whispering for Lucas to stay once at the top. Which he did. They both stood outside the room above the previous, eyeing the door as it creaked and emitted the scratching noise which they had heard below. Christophe wasn't stupid, _careless_, but not stupid so he knew how to be stealthy. He and Gregory where the best at stealth.

Christophe froze. The thought of his and Gregory's missions together left him an emotional wreck and now was not the time to cry over him. He needed to kill this bastard behind that door. Christophe shuffled, hugging the wall beside the handle of the door. Lucas knew this procedure well and followed his part, crouching dowm right infront of the door ready to pounce. Christophe counted down from three. At one he opened the door, Lucas sprinted inside and he spun around holding his gun high to bombard the creature inside. When Christophe was in line with the sight of Lucas brutally gnawing an unexpecting blood-sucker's abdomen, he shot the bastard right in the face. It made the most unearthly noise, a blood-gargling cry of pain, before it was dead. Lucas ran back to his master's side, licking the blood from his mouth and paws. Christophe sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. The stench was horrid, despite it being diluted by the tobacco fumes.

Luckily He and Lucas seemed to be amune to the blood of the infected. If they weren't, Lucas would be ripping Christophe's head off right about now. Ze Mole didn't think the virus was airborne, he didn't _believe_ it was airbrorne. For if it was airborne... No one would have survived. That would mean all his friends, all of what he had, would be gone. Turned into vicious beings with no heart, no soul and certainly no mind of their own. The brunette sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and clipping his AK-47 to his shoulder strap at the back. He took one long drag of his cigarette, before throwing it to the ground and stomping it out. The ground seemed so amusing at this moment in time, Christophe couldn't help but stare at it. It was soaked in blood, as was Lucas, who stood at the man's feet, licking away the blood caking his boots. Christophe closed his eyes and stepped back into the past.

* * *

"Sheet, Why are you 'ere?" Christophe was laying among a vast amount of bushes like a marine soldier, with arms folded infront of his face, caked in dirt. He puffed on a cigarette placed between his mouth, he also had a shovel placed on his back and a pistol in his pocket. He would need that later on in the mission but he didn't expect a certain Brit to show up with a fucking shotgun, bright orange shirt and platinum hair. 'Great camouflage' He thought.

"Are you stupid? I was sent here. You can't expect to go alone on this can you? Besides, you need the extra ammunition." Gregory lay next to Christophe as they both hid from any unsuspecting enemy targets. The frenchman sighed and facepalmed groaning about that he didn't need any back-up and that he would surely die alone anyway.

Christophe turned to Gregory annoyed, pointing at him rudely. "Tsk, I'm not stupeed an' 'Ow come you are always zo clean? You are like a walking shower or something. Only _cold_."

Gregory smirked, turning over on his side, holding up his head with his hand. "You are such the typical dirty, little, french boy aren't you? That aside, It seems you've already run into some vicious attackers. The _guard dogs_ perhaps?"

Christophe stiffened. He absolutely hated dogs of _any_ kind but the fact Gregory was even mensioning the _guard dogs_, now, that was a 'big' no no in the frenchman's book. Though Gregory always seemed to love stepping over the line, if there even was one between them. Though, Christophe chuckled it off, shaking a finger and booting the Brit in the leg with his _very_ hard military boots. "Beetch." Gregory sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as he glared at the man who had dared to inflict paint onto him. He shook his head in disbelief. 'How could one man be so defesive about everything.' He thought.

**PART TWO COMING SOON!**

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**A/N: I'LL FINISH IT SOON I SWEAR! I HAVE EXAMS AND AGHHHHH! ***Tweek attack*

**Ummm... yeah. Please review even if your not a member of FF. I do like criticism but don't bash or flame.**

**T.O.F.D loves you all!**

**No Homo~ **


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